This story is about MY main character. But the other characters belong to J.K. ROWLING. And if any of my friends see this, you know I have a DIRTY DIRTY MIND. Hehe. Just kidding! It's not that dirty.
"Sweetheart, come home."
She had begged, pleaded with me to stay. But I wasn't listening. I kept walking; phone in hand, away from my mother, who was sobbing at my turned back.
"Please sweetie. PLEASE!"
"NO!" She flinched back at my tone. It was bitter, sad, defeated, and angry. So, so angry.
"Why should I go home to that? What gave you the right to be able to make me stay with a DRUNK BASTARD who BEATS HIS CHILDREN?" She snapped her gaze up, surprised.
"But he's never beaten you…"
"No. I saw him beat my sister. Nicole, remember? Little adorable girl with curly hair? While YOU were busy at WORK, I was tending to her wounds, because I actually CARED!"
Her eyes lit up with anger.
"Don't you DARE assume that I didn't care. I've done EVERYTHING to support this family, and you're about to screw it up because you care about your goddamn SISTER. Now come home or don't come back!"
Suddenly, there was an explosion. My mother was blown forwards, and I ducked under her and the flying debris. The heat if the fire was singeing my eyebrows. I wondered who's house that was. Then I realized. That house was mine.
"NICOLE!" I sprinted towards the burning house, not concerned at all with the fact it was on fire, and that I could get seriously burnt. Nicole was my priority, always was, always will be.
I kicked through the front door, completely ignoring my father's slumped form, unmoving, lying by a circuit with a beer bottle. I tore through the burning house, burning my fingers on the glass furniture, charring my denim shorts and melting the soles of my trainers.
"Nicole? NICOLE!" I was screaming, terrified, wondering if she hadn't died from smoke inhalation.
"Liwah! Liwah! Help Me!" She was in the family room. At the other end of the house. So I kicked through the wall. I don't know how, because it was two feet thick, but I did. I burst through room after room, Nicole my goal, her cries getting weaker and weaker.
"NICOLE!" I burst through the door and into the family room, ignoring the heat of the rapidly growing fire.
"Li-Liwah…" She broke into hacking coughs. But I couldn't worry about that. I grabbed her, sprinted through the back door, and jumped through the sprinkler system, which my father had failed to turn off.
I heard a crack behind me, a loud one. I turned around. There were men in black cloaks behind me. They were intimidating, and carried an aura of dangerousness. I clutched Nicole closer to me, aware that her breathing was finally regular, and that she was dozing off. I was relieved for that.
"Hello Liya. We're going to take the little one now, for her protection. Both your parents are dead, so it would be best for her to come into our care," His voice was like snakes and oil and ice cold water. Chilling, greasy, slick, full of lies.
"No. I don't trust you." My voice was trembling, but defiant. I would never give them Nicole, not on my life.
"I recommend you give her to us, or the consequences would be most dire." He hissed it now, the man in the front. The maskless one. The one who had slits for nostrils and blood red eyes.
"NO!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"No!"
It hit Nicole.
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